


First Date Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:30:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request for Dean coming out as bisexual and asking Sam and Charlie's advice for asking out Castiel. I got a little carried away with the request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Date Ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> In conjunction with this, I'm going to write a Charlie/Dorothy ficlet based in the bar. It should be posted as soon as I finish the next chapter of Nice Words are for Lonely Angels.

“Sam, I really don’t think this is going to work.”

Sam just shakes his head derisively, dismissing any and all of Dean’s questions and denials. Dean can’t stop fiddling; fiddling with his fingers, picking at his jeans, fluffing his hair. There is no way this is going to work.

“You said you want to take him out,” Sam replies, focusing his attention back onto his older brother. “If you would just fucking ask him, he’ll probably say ‘yes’.”

Dean shifts in his seat again, uncomfortable with the entire situation. Sam is, at best, a mere third party observer. Yeah, he knows both Dean and Cas better than anyone, but he doesn’t know Dean and Cas _together._ Hell, he doesn’t know that Cas has been climbing into Dean’s bed in the middle of the night for the past month.

“What if he doesn’t know what a date is, Sammy?”

“He’s not stupid,” Sam mutters, waving a hand through the air almost passively. “You were lookin’ directly at him when you said you were bi. I think it’s safe to assume he got your ‘subtlety’.”

Sam snorts and his eyes crinkle as he breaks into a string of guffaws. Dammit, he’d come to his brother for help, not to get mocked.

“Fine, I’ll ask Charlie if you think it’s so damn funny.”

Dean shoves himself out of the rickety wooden chair and stomps out of the room in the general direction of Charlie’s quarters. She’s probably a better person to ask anyways; she, at least, has the advantage, in this situation, of not being straight.

He stops in front of her door which, Dean notes, she’s covered in more posters from her adventures at Comic Con. Dean mentally kicks himself for not going with because he spots a signed Game of Thrones banner. He knocks three times, their signal for ‘please don’t be having sex, I need to talk’.

Charlie cracks open the heavy door, her small frame contorting as she pulls it open. She’s definitely been playing something for the past few hours; her ginger hair is mussed into a tangled nest, she’s wearing one of Dean’s old shirts with what looks to be Cas’s boxers, and she’s armed with the Elder Wand.

“Whoa there, Voldemort.”

“What is it, Dean?” Charlie asks, her eyebrows meeting in a frustrated frown.

“Can you talk for a second? I, uh, need some… advice.”

Her scrawny shoulders slump and she scoots out of the path of the doorway, inviting him in. Dean passes her and wanders to the ridiculously large bed she’d made the brothers get her after giving the delivery man a false address. Granted, Dean was grateful for her carefulness, but he didn’t particularly enjoy strapping a trailer to his baby and driving a dismantled bed halfway across town.

She belly flops beside him and twists so she’s lying on her back, peering up at him through curious eyes.

“Spill.”

Dean keeps his eyes focused on his hands as he divulges his worries onto Charlie. “I want to, uh, take Cas somewhere special.” His hands knot and unknot before his eyes, completely of their own accord. Dammit, he really is nervous.

Charlie, however, sits up and smacks him on the arm. Dean looks at her, his features melding into an expression of utter confusion. “I knew it!” She grins to herself almost evilly, and cracks her knuckles in an almost villainous fashion. “When do you want to do this?”

“Um, I was hoping tonight.”

“All right, then we’ve got work to do.”

Charlie rolls off of the bed and lands in a heap on the floor. For a brief moment, Dean’s worried that her carelessness has finally done her in, but then she springs to her feet, perky as ever. He watches as she jogs to the small television set she’s organized in her room and saves her progress in what looks like GTA before shutting the whole system off.

She turns back to him and crooks her index finger in a menacing ‘come hither’ gesture. “Let’s go get you dolled up.”

And so they go to his room and dig through his clothes, searching for something, anything, that’s sole purpose isn’t longevity. Eventually, Charlie finds a handful of his nicer things and lays them out on his bed. Then, she glares at him until he tries on each and every ensemble.

He receives a glare on the suit. When he walks out wearing, what was totally her choice by the way, a pair of dorky plaid pants and a flannel button up, she breaks into a fit of breathless giggles. Stupid outfit after stupid outfit, Dean finds that almost all of the choices she’s given him are either laughably bad or too formal. All he’s left with is a simply green downy long sleeve, his favorite worn down jeans, and a form fitting leather jacket that he’s been hesitant to wear because it’s not his father’s.

When he walks out in the last outfit, Charlie’s eyes visibly brighten. He fidgets awkwardly when she places a hand beneath her chin, examining him up and down in an almost predatory gaze. After a moment, she walks up to him and tugs the jacket into an arrangement that probably pleases her, going off of the small smile that grows on her lips. Then her hands wander to his hair, combing the untrimmed strands off his forehead.

“Yeah, Cas is a lucky dude.”

And yeah, maybe Dean blushes a little. Maybe he stands a little straighter. He fists his hands into his pockets and shifts on his feet in anticipation. He still doesn’t know how he’s going to go about asking Cas out, but he’s definitely more optimistic about the whole process than he was earlier.

* * *

* * *

So far, Charlie has observed Castiel leaning in to catch Dean’s lips in his own four times.

She had stowed away from the bunker out of mere curiosity over how well Dean was utilizing her advice. Sam had simply rolled his eyes when she’d told him of her plan, stating only to be careful. Going by the scene happening before her eyes, it wasn’t Dean who needed the advice, but rather Castiel, who seems to have an affinity for public displays of affection.

She’d never have expected Cas to be the initiator, or even the one to make the first move. As far as she knows, Dean may have been the first to kiss Cas, but he’s definitely taking a liking to it given the fervency with which he does it.

Dean has been blushing scarlet for nearly a half hour now. His focus shifts from his hands to Castiel’s eyes, to his own lap, and back to Castiel’s eyes. It would be cute, if it wasn’t so awkward to watch.

Many of the patrons located near their table cough uncomfortably and shift whenever Castiel gets too grabby. She completely understands the discomfort, though she is glad they are still on opposing sides of the booth. If they weren’t, Charlie would bet a lot of money that Cas would have a hand on Dean’s crotch. Hell, she’s not even sure if that’s happening beneath the table, despite the distance.

Eventually, Dean returns Castiel’s advances in equal earnest; he brushes his hands along Castiel’s forearms and thumbs over his cheekbones. It’s all incredibly, revoltingly sweet in such a way that Charlie is reminded of romantic novels and cheesy fan fictions where boy meets boy and all is perfect in the world. She grins to herself as the waiter walks to their table and they extrapolate themselves from each other in a haste as to conceal the fact that they’ve been touching.

Charlie only has to wait another half hour for them to pay their bill and leave, probably heading back to the bunker to do… things she would rather not think about, thank you very much. She opts to remain in her seat at the bar, not really motivated to head back to the bunker if she’ll be bombarded with pesky hand holding and lewd touches.

When she’s got a good buzz going, she decides to leave the bar, tipping the bartender a tenner for putting up with her unchecked sighs and subtle come-ons. She gathers her things and stumbles out of the restaurant, catching a bus back to Lawrence.

Charlie arrives back at the bunker within a half hour, heading straight for her bedroom. She spots Sam reclining on the couch in the living room, watching reruns of Star Trek, Shatner edition. He nods at her as she drops her things on the coffee table and mutters good night when she passes up the opportunity to watch her favorite show in favor of sleep.

Just before she leaves the room, however, she turns back to the large man.

“Did Dean and Cas come back?”

Sam nods his head in the direction of Dean’s bedroom, rolling his eyes as he does so. Well, that wasn’t unexpected, not in the very least. Still, though, Charlie is happy for her idiot friends; it took them fucking long enough to grow a pair and confess. And by the looks of it, figuratively- Charlie’s not going within a stone’s throw of Dean’s room tonight, it was beneficial. Nice, even.

She wanders back to her own bedroom, content with the happenings of the evening, and the successes of her assistance with Dean. Stripping to her underclothes, she tucks herself in bed and turns in for the night, happy, satisfied, and a little tipsy.

* * *

* * *

“Fuck, Cas. Just like that.”

For a guy who’s only had sex once, Castiel is a fucking natural at, well, fucking. Dean doesn’t know how it happened, but he’s glad it did. His legs are spread on either side of Cas’s hips, feet hooked over his friend’s ass and drawing him in closer, as Cas pounds into him with a fervency Dean has never observed in the guy.

His hands scratch down Cas’s back, eliciting a series of shivers and uncontrolled buckles from the angel. His thrusts become less tempered and lose their rhythm when Dean grinds down in answer, searching for the spot he knows is there.

When Castiel changes his angle, he gets just that. His entire body arches into Castiel and a sharp pang of arousal courses through his veins. Castiel stops for a moment when he sees Dean go rigid, awkwardly tensing into the mattress as the sheer amount of pleasure over takes him. Fuck, he needs _more_.

“Are you all right, Dean?” Castiel pants out from above him, his hands patting Dean’s shoulders and chest. Dean waits until the initial wave passes, letting it dull to a soft thrumming, to wrap his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and tug him in for a deep, sloppy kiss.

“Yeah, I’m fucking all right. Do it again, Cas.”

And he complies. His thrusts continue with reckless abandon, plundering into Dean with a new enthusiasm, to which he is eternally grateful. His hands slip from their position on either side of Dean’s head to wrap around his hips and draw him closer and closer, hitting that spot with each prod, sending pulses of pleasure throughout both of their bodies.

Castiel comes before Dean does.

His eyes flutter shut and his entire hold on Dean is released. He doesn’t pull out of Dean at all; as a matter of fact, it is quite the opposite. He burrows further into Dean as hot, sticky liquid spurts from his cock and fills Dean. When he finishes twitching and moaning above Dean, one of his hands wanders down to Dean’s own throbbing member, wrapping around his cock in a tentative grip.

“Like this?” Cas asks, somewhat breathless and genuinely curious.

Dean can only nod in response because Cas slides it up and down in a lazy pace, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. It doesn’t take much for Dean to follow Cas over the cliff of his own orgasm, pushing into Castiel’s fist one more time until he’s spilling over his own stomach, over Cas’s hand.

He trembles and groans and moans, and he’ll be surprised if the entire city couldn’t hear him. For a quick second, he thinks he should feel embarrassed, but a second wave of arousal wipes any lucid thought from his brain as he comes again, adding to the mess he’s already created.

After a few moments, Dean’s breathing finally calms. He pulls his companion flush against his chest, relishing in the feel of Castiel’s heartbeat pumping strong in time with Dean’s. Castiel’s fingers draw lines from freckle to freckle on Dean’s shoulder, smiling at the multitude of constellations that pattern Dean’s skin.

Dean presses ginger kisses into Castiel’s hair, mumbling sweet nothings as they slowly drift off, completely tranquil for the first time in months. Just before his eyelids flutter shut, Dean leans down and presses a warm kiss to the tip of Castiel’s nose.

“Goodnight, my angel.”


End file.
